Read Online Tyrant's Stars: Parts Three and Four by Hideyuki Kikuchi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hideyuki Kikuchi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, Japan, Vampires, Occult & Supernatural, Comics & Graphic Novels, Manga, Horror Comic Books; Strips; Etc, light novel
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mountain . . .”
“What mountain?” Sue asked in spite of herself, feeling a closeness to the giant for the first time.
“I forget. . . But... it doesn’t matter . .. anyway.”
“That’s not true. Why, it’s your—” Sue started to say, but then she fell silent. Hadn’t they themselves left their hometown? A feeling of loneliness clung to her bones like a bitter winter wind, freezing Sue in place. Her body trembled as if trying to shake itself free of that spell.
“That’s not true. The place you were born is—”
The sunlight filtering through the branches soaked up her voice. Her words seemed to glow. That glow became an elongated object headed straight for Seurat’s chest that then vanished into thin air. The hand missile in question would probably keep going in another direction for all time.
Seurat stood up. Turning to look, he glared with such intensity in his eyes that Sue felt her breath taken away.
“Count Braujou?”
“It seems you’re safe and sound.” The count reached for a branch that hung in front of him and tried to snap it off, but the branch poked through his fist. “As you can see, I’m an illusion,” Braujou said. Though this three-dimensional representation was a collection of floating molecules, it seemed real enough.
“That’s a maze, is it not?” said the Nobleman. “Whatever’s put inside it can’t be touched from outside. But you can’t strike back, either. Come on out of there.”
Seurat’s massive form rose above the maze, making an unbelievable leap and colliding with the illusional Braujou before dashing clean through the Nobleman. In his right hand he carried his club, while a silvery pair of flaming arrows flew behind him, scoring direct hits just below either shoulder blade. It looked as if a boulder had bounded forward, and pillars of flame burst from either side of his chest. The instant the pair of hand missiles sank into him, the energy they contained transformed into million-degree shock waves.
Seurat fell over, making the ground tremble. Unable to support such weight, the enormous tree that his gigantic form fell against toppled over, tossing up roots and soil in the process. Giant though he might be, Seurat couldn’t bear the million-degree heat waves spreading through his body. His form already shook with a death rattle.
The missile attack had come from behind him—from the direction of the illusional Count Braujou. Indeed, they’d been launched from within his cape. Was the count not an illusion after all?
Walking over to a form every bit as large as his own—one that now trembled with the pain of its death throes—the count grinned. “Depending on the level of cohesion of the floating particles, this illusion can approach solidity ... enough to launch real missiles or wield a spear. Hmm, you took two hand missiles and still aren’t dead? I shall have to take your head off now.”
The count swung the long spear home with his right hand, but it passed through his fingers and jabbed into the ground about ten feet away at an angle. He’d put great power into his swing; it’d proven too much for the weak collection of molecules. That being the case, was the spear real?
With a sheepish grin, Braujou pulled his spear out of the ground. His movements were cautious. Prodding Seurat’s torso with his foot, he rolled the giant onto his back. The wounds where the heat waves had burst from Seurat’s body narrowly missed his heart. That was what the count would be aiming for. Seurat pressed his right hand to the wound on the side of his chest. The spear was raised high.
“Illusion or not, I’ll have you know it could be deemed an honor to be slain by someone bearing the likeness of Count Braujou,” the count jeered as he brought his spear down.
Several hundredths of a second before the tip of it struck its mark, the Nobleman probably saw it—the unclosed circle Seurat had drawn over his heart with his right hand.
The tip of the spear
“What mountain?” Sue asked in spite of herself, feeling a closeness to the giant for the first time.
“I forget. . . But... it doesn’t matter . .. anyway.”
“That’s not true. Why, it’s your—” Sue started to say, but then she fell silent. Hadn’t they themselves left their hometown? A feeling of loneliness clung to her bones like a bitter winter wind, freezing Sue in place. Her body trembled as if trying to shake itself free of that spell.
“That’s not true. The place you were born is—”
The sunlight filtering through the branches soaked up her voice. Her words seemed to glow. That glow became an elongated object headed straight for Seurat’s chest that then vanished into thin air. The hand missile in question would probably keep going in another direction for all time.
Seurat stood up. Turning to look, he glared with such intensity in his eyes that Sue felt her breath taken away.
“Count Braujou?”
“It seems you’re safe and sound.” The count reached for a branch that hung in front of him and tried to snap it off, but the branch poked through his fist. “As you can see, I’m an illusion,” Braujou said. Though this three-dimensional representation was a collection of floating molecules, it seemed real enough.
“That’s a maze, is it not?” said the Nobleman. “Whatever’s put inside it can’t be touched from outside. But you can’t strike back, either. Come on out of there.”
Seurat’s massive form rose above the maze, making an unbelievable leap and colliding with the illusional Braujou before dashing clean through the Nobleman. In his right hand he carried his club, while a silvery pair of flaming arrows flew behind him, scoring direct hits just below either shoulder blade. It looked as if a boulder had bounded forward, and pillars of flame burst from either side of his chest. The instant the pair of hand missiles sank into him, the energy they contained transformed into million-degree shock waves.
Seurat fell over, making the ground tremble. Unable to support such weight, the enormous tree that his gigantic form fell against toppled over, tossing up roots and soil in the process. Giant though he might be, Seurat couldn’t bear the million-degree heat waves spreading through his body. His form already shook with a death rattle.
The missile attack had come from behind him—from the direction of the illusional Count Braujou. Indeed, they’d been launched from within his cape. Was the count not an illusion after all?
Walking over to a form every bit as large as his own—one that now trembled with the pain of its death throes—the count grinned. “Depending on the level of cohesion of the floating particles, this illusion can approach solidity ... enough to launch real missiles or wield a spear. Hmm, you took two hand missiles and still aren’t dead? I shall have to take your head off now.”
The count swung the long spear home with his right hand, but it passed through his fingers and jabbed into the ground about ten feet away at an angle. He’d put great power into his swing; it’d proven too much for the weak collection of molecules. That being the case, was the spear real?
With a sheepish grin, Braujou pulled his spear out of the ground. His movements were cautious. Prodding Seurat’s torso with his foot, he rolled the giant onto his back. The wounds where the heat waves had burst from Seurat’s body narrowly missed his heart. That was what the count would be aiming for. Seurat pressed his right hand to the wound on the side of his chest. The spear was raised high.
“Illusion or not, I’ll have you know it could be deemed an honor to be slain by someone bearing the likeness of Count Braujou,” the count jeered as he brought his spear down.
Several hundredths of a second before the tip of it struck its mark, the Nobleman probably saw it—the unclosed circle Seurat had drawn over his heart with his right hand.
The tip of the spear
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